


Distraction (is a “D” word, so it’s okay)

by ChancreDoll



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Slash, levity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancreDoll/pseuds/ChancreDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony return to base after a terrible battle. Tony attempts to distract Steve from his grief with reason, sex, and finally his unique form of Tony Stark humor (and caring).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction (is a “D” word, so it’s okay)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t seen The Avengers yet, so there are no spoilers. This story is set after an imagined battle in the future after the team has been together for awhile. Tony and Steve are in an established relationship, but it’s still fairly new.

**Distraction (is a “D” word, so it’s okay)**  
by Chancre Doll

 

“Look at me,” Tony ordered. He put his hands on Steve’s cheeks and pulled his face around. “Look at me, dammit!” He could feel the tenseness in Steve’s jaw. 

Steve’s eyes were glistening in the reflection from Tony’s arc reactor, which was exposed and glowing in the low light of the locker room. Steve’s expression frightened Tony more than Galactus and his fucked-up minions had. 

“Don’t!” Tony yelled, even though he was only inches from Steve. “It wasn’t your fault.” He knew what Steve would say. Knew it before he’d managed to quickly shuck his armor and follow Steve into the locker room. 

Steve twisted his head, but without any of the effort he easily could have used to break free of Tony’s grip. “They died!” he said, his voice aching with agony. “They died because of me.”

Tony winced. He knew Steve would blame himself the moment Banner had looked up from Natasha’s body, shaking his head sadly, his fingers trailing from her neck. Thor didn’t need his pulse checked, what remained of him left nothing to the imagination. 

“That crazy giant space bastard did it, not you,” Tony said, even though he knew none of it would penetrate Steve’s grief. 

Steve put his hand on Tony’s shoulder with a gentle but obvious push. It was clear as he didn’t think he deserved the comfort Tony was offering. 

Of course, other people’s wishes never stopped Tony Stark before. 

He grabbed Steve’s bicep and yanked hard. Steve’s super soldier strength could’ve allowed him to resist Tony’s unarmored pull with ease, but instead, he simply let Tony halt him. Tony found Steve’s lack of resistance as troubling as his words. 

Steve’s face was towards the floor, his eyes hidden by a shadow of blond hair falling over his forehead. “They trusted me,” he said, his voice low and hollow. 

Tony’s rough grip on Steve’s arm loosed to a gentle stroke. “Yeah, they did,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the tiny weave of Steve’s suit, hoping Steve could feel the touch through whatever crazy Shield-patented material made up the fabric. “We all did. We still do.”

Steve looked up with an expression of something between shock and disgust. Tears made thin, wet furrows down his soot-darkened face. “Why? Tony, I got them killed. And they weren’t the first. The War, Bucky . . . .” He trailed off into memory and horror. 

Tony moved his hand up Steve’s arm and stepped forward. He returned his other hand to Steve’s face, this time cupping his jaw. “We saved the planet today,” he said. He smoothed his thumb over the stubble on Steve’s cheek. 

“We didn’t save Tasha or Thor,” Steve reminded him. 

Tony slowly pulled his hands away. The heat from Steve’s skin remained in his fingers, his palms. The glow around Tony’s heart cast a pale fire over his face and Steve’s as they stood facing one another in the semi-darkness. “No,” he admitted. 

When Steve flinched, Tony continued. “But that was what we signed up for, remember? Save the planet or die trying, blah blah. We should’ve got a lawyer to read that contract.” He attempted to make it sound jaunty, but it wasn’t quite up to a legitimate Tony Stark quip. He sighed. “Look, we all knew what the stakes were going in. And maybe Thor and Tasha _did_ die trying, but, hey! Planet saved. Bad guy trounced. At least give them that.” 

“I do,” Steve immediately replied. “Of course, I do. They were heroes.” He fumbled at the buckle of his belt and wrenched it free, throwing it in the same general direction of his hood and gloves.

Tony felt a small wave of relief at Steve’s tone - just glad that Steve _had_ a tone at all rather than that dead voice - and he nodded in agreement. “They were Avengers.” 

“Avengers,” Steve echoed. But he began to shake his head again. 

Tony wondered if Steve was forcibly trying to make himself feel even more guilty. The man was beyond noble and way beyond stubborn. Tony reminded himself that he hated those qualities in a man. He felt it was unfair that Steve had those ridiculous traits hidden in that exquisite body.

“I shouldn’t have sent them north,” Steve said, worrying his fingers into his hair. “Maybe if Hawkeye and I had gone to the power plant . . . .”

“Oh, shut up.”

Steve just looked at him sadly. “You’re the one who suggested moving the evacuation route. I should’ve . . . .”

“Shut up!”

“Tony, I know what . . . .”

Tony reached to Steve’s neck, grabbed the edges of his collar, and pulled him forward until their lips met. With Steve’s recriminations halted, Tony kissed Steve harshly, his fingers wound tightly in the fabric of Steve’s suit. When he felt Steve’s hands at his waist, Tony began to think the distraction may be working. He deepened the kiss. It was hot and rough and Tony only pulled back when he could no longer breathe.

Panting he said, “And don’t tell me it’s not a good time, Boy Scout. You never think it’s a go--!” Tony’s rant was cut short by Steve’s lips.

“I take it this is a good time then?” Tony asked when they again parted.

Steve grasped the back of Tony’s head by his hair and tilted him back. He ravished Tony’s mouth with wet heat and languid probing tongue. Steve wrapped his other arm around Tony’s waist and pulled him even closer. 

Tony moaned at the contact, but again had to break the kiss, fighting for air. “Why can you never remember I don’t have Super-Soldier lung capacity?” he grumbled. Despite his levity, the blood was rushing into his groin. His desire to distract Steve was becoming just straight-forward desire. 

He used the pause to yank at the hem of Steve’s tunic. But his attempt to strip Steve was interrupted by Steve’s unwillingness to loose his grip on Tony’s waist. Steve kept them pressed together at the hips. 

“Get your damn uniform off,” Tony complained, tugging futilely at the fabric. 

But Steve didn’t comply or answer. He bent and captured Tony’s mouth again. Tony contented himself with running his hands over the bit of Steve’s back he’d managed to expose. He dipped his fingers down into the back of Steve’s pants, but stopped when he felt another layer of cloth. He jerked his face back from Steve’s to stare at him incredulously.

“Seriously? You’re wearing underwear?” He said, more than asked. Backing out of Steve’s embrace, he pulled on the waistband of Steve’s pants, pretending to inspect the front, then let it go with a snap. “Really?” He watched the confusion grow in Steve’s furrowed brow and that was his signal to push it. “You’re basically wearing high-tech pantyhose in front of the whole world with every bump and pimple on display and you still wear underwear? Please tell me they aren’t tighty-whities.” 

“Tighty - what?” Steve gave Tony the I’m-from-a-different-decade-and-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look that Tony loved to evoke. 

Tony was particularly pleased to arouse that look in light of the day’s horror. “Oh my Grandpa!” he mocked, fluttering his long dark lashes at Steve, “What big balls you have.” He was rewarded with an exasperated sigh. Tony’s chuckle was propelled by relief, but that, too was cut short. 

Steve grabbed the bottom of Tony’s shirt and jerked it up. Tony raised his arms in response and let Steve strip off his shirt. It hadn’t hit the floor before Steve was tugging on Tony’s pants and yanking them down. The light-weight insulating fabric Shield gave him did a great job cushioning his armor, but the form-fitting aspect of the pants always made them a bitch to get over his feet. Tony left Steve to the chore of pulling the pants off, resting a hand on his back for balance as Steve leaned over to wrench the first foot free. 

“As you’ll see,” Tony noted like a nature documentary narrator, “Iron Man does not believe in underwear. Testing has proven it encumbers the armor’s gears and the wearer’s nuts.” 

Instead of standing after he finished unpantsing Tony, Steve knelt and looked up at him wearily. 

“Am I talking too much again?” Tony asked with his patented Tony Stark smirk.

“Yes,” Steve said, as seriously as a librarian with hemorrhoids. But although his face was stern, his hands were sliding up Tony’s calves and thighs.

Tony inhaled deeply and let himself enjoy the electric sensation of Steve’s skin on his own and the exquisite pressure of his stiffening cock. Until then, he’d been so concerned about Steve, he hadn’t thought how much he needed this distraction himself. 

“You love it when I talk,” he said as Steve’s fingers inched up his legs. He set his hands against the cool metal of the locker behind him, bracing himself because the day’s exhaustion was increasing the headiness he was feeling. “Admit it.”

“Yes,” Steve repeated, his tone lower now, taking on a familiar velvet timbre. 

Tony reveled in being the only person who’d ever heard Steve use that voice. Tony had been the one who first brought it and other glorious sounds forth from Steve’s lips, and he was eager to hear more. He couldn’t stop looking down into Steve’s brilliant blue eyes, now darkened with passion, but still gazing out from that ever-serious brow, imagining the many new ways he could teach Steve to whimper in pleasure. 

“You’d probably get turned on if I recited the Gettysburg Address,” Tony said, his own voice uneven from his quickening breath. 

“Go ahead.” Steve’s caress was making its way around Tony’s hips to his buttocks. He leaned closer, his breath tickling Tony’s cock. Steve splayed his hands against the small of Tony’s back, anchoring him in place with strong arms. 

Tony tensed, splaying his hands against the locker. He waited impatiently for Steve’s mouth, unable to stop running his own. “Foreskin and seven beers ago,” he rambled, his vociferousness as instinctual as the ache in his stiff dick. “Oh, shit!” he hissed as finally, the wet heat of Steve’s tongue made contact with his cock. “Yeah.”

Blinking, Tony realized he’d squeezed his eyes closed, finally breaking eye contact with Steve. He looked down to see Steve intensely concentrating as he licked Tony’s thickening shaft. Steve’s head bobbed as he traced his tongue up and down its length. Tony was always amused that Steve put the same determination into a blow job as he did with battle plans or mission reports. That was Steve. And he was all Tony’s. The thought made Tony harder. 

Steve gently kneaded Tony’s ass and stretched his neck up so he could take the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth. He turned so Tony’s length could slip into the side of his cheek. Then he pulled back slowly, trailing his lips over Tony’s spit-slicked cock, only to move forward again, and back, setting a rhythm Tony suspected could be measured with a metronome. 

Tony released his support hold on the locker behind him, realizing he wasn’t going anywhere with Captain Fuckin’ A-Merica holding him - even if he passed out, he’d do it upright - and he ran his fingers through Steve’s fine hair. Steve looked up to him, swollen lips stretched and slicked with spit and pre-come, and cheek bulging with cock. He wore an expression that struck Tony as some crazy combination of ‘Innocent Puppy Looking for Approval’ and ‘90-year-old Virgin Finally Gets Some and Instantly Turns Into Nymphomaniac.” It was enough to leave even Tony Stark speechless. 

Well, almost. “God, Babe, that’s good,” Tony breathed, then cringed. 

He hated it when he accidentally said the “B” word. What the hell was it about Steve that continually made that “Babe” slip? Tony found it really annoying. But apparently the nickname pleased Steve, because he set himself to pulling off Tony with increased vigor, the beat of the metronome picking up slightly. 

“Whoever taught you how to do that was a sexual maestro,” Tony said. He played with Steve’s hair, forcing himself not to direct the movement of Steve’s head, mentally reciting a mantra of patience. “Oh wait, that was me. And I am.” He released one hand from Steve’s head and wrapped it around the base of his cock, squeezing. He began making short strokes over the part of his cock not in Steve’s mouth, keeping time with Steve’s rhythm. 

Steve’s responding look failed to disguise his embarrassment and Tony feared he’d made a terrible mistake, particularly in light of the day’s disaster and Steve’s depression at what he considered his own failure. “Hey, it’s okay,” Tony attempted to soothe. 

But Steve resumed his expression of concentration and shifted his head to take Tony’s cock down his throat. Tony tried to shift his hips back, but he was locked in place by Steve’s strong grip on his ass and thighs. Steve slid Tony’s dick past his lips and over the wet cushion of his tongue, making Tony long to push forward and encase his shaft in Steve’s sweet hot mouth. But he resisted, instead pushing Steve’s head back forcefully, even as he felt the tightening from Steve’s throat on the head of his cock, as his gag reflex once again kicked in with a cough. 

“Steve, it’s okay,” he repeated. His voice contained no trace of his previous levity. He shifted his grip to smooth Steve’s hair, but Steve didn’t meet his eyes. Tony was glad this time Steve wasn’t apologizing, but he was still afraid he’d managed to screw up the little progress he’d made trying to bring Steve out of his funk. 

“You don’t become Deep Throat over night,” he said. “You may expect yourself to be perfect, but I don’t. How could I love you if you were? I’m the only perfect person I know and that’d be practically narcissistic.” 

Tony froze. Steve’s hands fell slowly from Tony’s ass, dragging down his legs. 

Tony hadn’t said the “B” word this time, he’d said the “L” word. The “l-o-v-e” word. He hadn’t thought it was part of his vocabulary. Apparently, it was. He wondered if he looked as terrified to Steve as he felt. 

Steve finally blinked, then returned his attention back to Tony’s still-waiting cock, which was red and glistening. He grasped the base of it with a hand as Tony had done, and again took it at an angle into his mouth. Steve immediately began pumping Tony’s dick rapidly with his fist and lips. 

Tony groaned in both pleasure and relief. His thoughts shifted quickly from his verbal slip to the increasing pressure in his hard shaft. He braced himself again on the locker and pushed his hips forward, shoving his dick into Steve’s cheek. 

Steve responded by twisting and squeezing his fingers around the base of Tony’s cock. He lathed Tony’s dick as he sucked and pulled. 

Tony soon felt the tightening that signaled his imminent orgasm. “Steve,” he warned, knowing it should be enough to let his lover know he was close, and glad he didn’t have to say any more while he was trying so hard to breathe. 

But Steve didn’t release Tony’s dick as he’d been signaled to do. He continued pumping Tony with his mouth. 

“Dammit,” Tony groaned. “Steve.” Tony began to buck his hips. What remained of his consciousness tried to minimize his thrusts, but Steve’s glorious mouth and fingers were undoing the small amount of focus Tony was able to conjure. He moaned, “I’m gonna come.”

The look Steve gave Tony in response was defiant. It undid Tony completely. He thrust into Steve’s mouth and arched his back, his hot load shooting into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve gulped and swallowed awkwardly as Tony continued to spurt, but he didn’t gag or cough. He only spluttered a little before slowly releasing Tony’s softening cock with a gentle lick to clean the tip.

Tony leaned back heavily into the locker. He watched Steve wipe a trickle of come from the corner of his mouth. If Tony hadn’t just emptied himself, that sight alone would have made him hard again. “Shit,” he panted. “Shit.” 

Steve stood and pulled Tony into a tight embrace. He kissed him deeply, transferring back to Tony his own taste. Tony didn’t resist the kiss, letting Steve take whatever he needed, determining that if doing so meant he’d die from asphyxiation, Steve was well worth it. 

But Steve came up for air before Tony turned blue. His hot hands roamed greedily over Tony’s back as he dipped down to kiss Tony’s jaw and neck. 

It was then Tony realized he was still the only naked man in the room. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered.

Once again, he tried pulling on the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “I want you to fu-uhh, do me.” His last-second correction was in hard-learned deference to Steve’s old-fashioned sensibilities about the “F” word. Tony thought that following the “B” word and the “L” word, it was pretty ironic he remembered to pinch off the “F” word. Fucking fan-tas-tic. He yanked harshly on Steve’s tunic out of pique. 

Steve left his exploration of Tony’s neck to take him again into a deep, long kiss. Tony didn’t think he’d ever been with someone who enjoyed kissing as much as Steve. Granted, there was a fairly lengthy list of someones Tony had to file through before he could be certain, but he was pretty sure Steve was near, if not at, the top of that list of kissing fanatics. His working theory on that trait was based half on the influence of 40’s morality skewing Steve from appreciating a turn-of-the-century quickie, and half on his belief that Steve just liked doing what he was good at. And Steve was good at kissing. Tony leaned back and let Steve dance his tongue in his mouth. 

When Steve finally pulled back they were both breathing hard. That wasn’t the only thing that was hard. Tony could feel Steve’s erection against his thigh. “Take. Off. The. Uniform.” he demanded. 

Steve’s pupils were black with desire, but he still possessed his steely blue glint. “If I take it off, I don’t know if I’ll ever put it back on,” he said evenly. 

His gaze held Tony’s and Tony felt that in it, there was a plea for release of two kinds, one physical, one the burden of being Captain America. 

Tony’s first instinct was to rip off Steve’s suit, special Shield-made-super-fucking-polymer-whatever-fabric or not, toss it in the trash, and free Steve of all the guilt and pain and hell he’d been through as Captain America, losing too many friends for too many years. 

But instead, Tony released Steve’s shirt and let the fabric slide over his fingers to again shroud Steve. 

As much as Tony wanted to release Steve from the burden of Captain America, he recognized that, although _he_ knew Steve was so much more, Steve saw himself as _only_ Captain America. And he couldn’t take that from Steve, as much as he might want to.

“Fine,” he said with an exaggerated eye-roll. “You don’t want to get naked. I can still get you off.” He pushed Steve back just far enough to pull out the waistband of his pants and shove his hand inside Steve’s pants and underwear. “I’m very creative,” he teased with both words and fingers. “After all, I’m an inventor billionaire playboy philanthropist.” 

Tony yanked Steve’s pants out further, releasing Steve’s hard cock so it rose up. The fat head was already leaking pre-come and Tony coated his fingers and ran them over Steve’s shaft, slicking it.

Steve inhaled with a moan and squeezed his eyes closed. “Genius,” he breathed on the exhale. 

Tony watched Steve’s face soften and the blush fire across his face. He thought how much he loved watching Steve get off. Then he mentally chastised himself for even thinking that damned “L” word again. Stupid “L” word. 

“What?” he asked as he pulled his fist over Steve’s stiff shaft, carefully pressing along a vein underneath in the way he remembered Steve appreciated. When Steve arched and sucked in air at the touch, Tony congratulated himself on again using his vast intellect for the advancement of man. Well, one man, he reasoned, if one liberally defined “advancement” as “orgasm.” 

Steve’s hands ran over Tony’s sides, down his ribs, back up over his shoulders. “It’s genius,” he said with quickening breath. “ _Genius_ billionaire playboy philanthropist. Ahhhh....” 

Tony chuckled. “Okay.” He increased his stroke, stropping Steve harshly. “I take it that last part was an honorary title,” he said. He felt Steve’s hands finally stop moving and his muscles tense. He knew Steve was close. “Come on, Babe,” he whispered. “Come for me.” 

Tony didn’t have time to berate himself again for using the “B” word before Steve’s thick, milky stream was coating his fist. He pumped Steve until he stopped spasming and gasped, “Okay. Okay.” 

Tony released Steve’s cock and kissed him gently. Steve returned the kiss with equal care. When their lips parted, they stayed close, breathing the same air and looking into each other’s eyes. 

“I love you, too.” Steve said. 

Tony ran a hand over Steve’s chest with a smile that was inappropriately devilish. He knew Steve was suspicious from the small crinkle in the corner of his right eye. But he also knew it was too late. He flipped his hand and smeared that over Steve’s chest as well, then did the palm again for good measure. He stepped back, wrinkling his nose at Steve’s torso.

Steve looked down and then back up at Tony with a look of disgust. His shirt was covered with come trails. “Ugh! Tony!”

“Sorry,” Tony said with a poorly-feigned look of chagrin. “I guess you’re going to have to stay Captain America _and_ take the suit off. Because it really needs to go to the cleaners.” 

He gave Steve a smile as dazzling as he thought it was and strutted off. “I’m heading for the shower,” he said over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, Tony heard the rustle of Steve pulling his shirt off. He rounded the corner to the shower room.

“You can’t take it back once you say it!” Steve yelled after him. 

“They changed that law in 1973!” Tony responded. 

Tony was bone-weary and heart-sick, but as he turned on the water and waited for it to warm, he felt like he’d somehow managed to snatch a small victory from the day’s hell. And with Steve still in the ring, whatever fight came next, Tony had hope they could do it again. He ducked his head under the water and wished peace for his departed friends. 

Steve walked in, wearing only a towel. Tony watched his unconsciously graceful beauty, trying not to stare because he knew it made Steve embarrassed, but failing. When Steve dropped the towel and joined him under the spray, Tony also mentally hoped he wouldn’t accidentally use the “M” word any time soon. 

 

 

 

(psst: the “M” word is “marriage”)


End file.
